Silent Night
by Amanda9
Summary: Mary Magdalene and Judas...that would have made Sunday school a hell of a lot more interesting... HouseCamWilson


**Title: _Silent Night  
_Author: **Amanda  
**Feedback:** sweety167yahoo.ca  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** I'm not really sure who owns House M.D., but I know it's not me.  
**Spoilers/Continuity:** The Fall finale.  
**Pairing: **taken as both House/Cameron, and House/Wilson. **  
Summary:** "Mary Magdalene and Judas…that would have made Sunday school a hell of a lot more interesting…"  
**Completed: **January 7, 2007  
**Notes:** Look what squabbling does to me? It inspires this! And in a fandom I've never tried before. I dedicate it to Erin, who got me hooked on House (much like Harry Potter) in the first place. I suppose; if you hate it, it's your own fault. Haha?

* * *

This was a crappy Christmas.

First he's harassed by a detective with far too much time on his hands, then when he does _The Right Thing_ (albeit, at the last possible moment), he gets no where. No thanks, no compensation. Nothing.

Would it kill anyone to give him a little credit here?

The series of hard raps on Wilson's apartment door fill the hallway. The loud, hollow sound of wood on wood. Surprisingly, considering the hour, only Wilson is beckoned by the sound.

Wilson yanks the door open, but only a careful crack, "…it's, not a good time." His hair looks dishevelled, as if he'd only pulled on the rumbled pyjamas because of the visitor at his door. And he can't help but look guilty about it.

"Come on, let a fallen man in, it's Christmas," House leans on the door, trying to force it open. Trying to force Wilson to let him in. Trying to force something.

Wilson casts an anxious look back into his apartment than turns it back out to House. He lowers his voice again, "We'll have to deal with this later…you should go." He tries, yet again, to get the door closed against the dead weight leaning on it.

"But I have no where to lay down my weary head?" A sly smile spreads across his face, "Have you got a girl in there?"

Wilson straightens his back. Defensive. Secretive. "No, I…" he tries to get rid of him, but House pushes his way in.

There is a pair of women's shoes by the door, and a coat flung over the nearby chair. If he looks a little longer he'll find the matching purse…maybe a few articles of clothing?

He turns back to Wilson, but not dropping the volume of his voice, "You got one of those flighty nurses in here? Woo her with all your sappy talk of dying children? Did you give her the weepy eyes too" Teasing Wilson, one the few things that are guaranteed to put a smile back on his face.

Making one of the naughty nurses blush would be fun too.

But Cameron walks out of the bathroom. Her arms crossed high over her chest. There's a sour look on her face as she tries to hide her obvious shame.

The smile fades from House's eyes; "Mary Magdalene and Judas…that would have made Sunday school a hell of a lot more interesting…"

"She came over because she was worried about you—," Wilson jumps in.

"And I'm sure you comforted her really well while I was laying in a puddle of my own puke," He spat back.

Cameron's eyes well up with concern, "What happened? Are you alright?" Her arms drop from her chest as she moves to put her hand on his arm. To check him, to comfort him. To know that he really was alright.

But his arm jerks back, as if being burned. "I really hope you washed your hands after…god only knows where they've been," he sneers.

Her mouth drops like a guppy, but there isn't anything she can say. She goes back to looking ashamed under his gaze.

"But," he claps his hands together to break the silent tension that settled on the room, "I'm sure you'll both be happy to know I went to see Tritter to take the deal," he plasters on a fake smile, "…and he turned me down. Merry Christmas"

Without waiting for any response, or the pat on the back he secretly wanted, House walks out of the apartment. The distinctive tap of his cane on the floor sounding off down the corridor.

Cameron lets out the haggard breath she didn't know she was holding. Shaking her head, she starts collecting her things and letting a few, well placed curses drop.

"You don't have to go," Wilson offers, not sure what to do other than watch her.

She stops and turns on him, "Did you really leave him in a puddle of his own puke?"

Wilson reaches for the right words; other than the actually yes, "He'd taken the whole bottle of pills. The lesson was…"

"The lesson? A man O.D.s and you think you'll teach him a lesson first? Is that it? Your friends will let you die?" she easily slips into her self-righteous role. Part guilt, part defence. Most of it being caught with her hand in the cookie jar by the one person she didn't want to disappoint. It was easier to snap than actually process the things that had just happened. There'd be time enough for that.

Cameron sweeps her way out of the apartment and into the hall. It's as if she had practised dramatic exists as part of her undergraduate studies.

Still the host, Wilson follows her into the hall, but lets her leave. What does he do if he follows her? He can't stop her, and he isn't sure that he's want to. Wasn't it their bickering that brought them to this in the first place?

He waits a few moments before he speaks. "So, what part pissed you off more? That she slept with me, or that I slept with her?" he asks into the seemingly empty hallway.

"Aren't those the same thing?" House stalks out from around the other corner.

"Um…not exactly. One makes me the bad guy --."

"No, you're the bad guy in both," House shoots him a sideways glare.

Wilson takes a moment to ponder, than gives a self-defecating smirk, "Fair enough… So, can Judas and Jesus, I'm assuming," he motions to House, "still _break bread_ for one evening?"

House takes a moment to looks over Wilson, then shrugs, "It is my birthday after all."

And it was still a crappy Christmas.

**END. **


End file.
